Incident of a Broken Man
by Carla K
Summary: A secret from a man's past means trouble for trail boss Gil Favor and his drovers.


**Incident of the Broken Man**

A Rawhide Story by Carla Keehn

This story is written for entertainment purposes only, not profit, and is not meant to infringe on any existing copyrights.

It was dawn. Trail boss Gil Favor watched silently as the last fabric of darkness gave way to streaks of morning light. The troubled man took a deep breath and savored the last moments of quiet before the new day.

Favor stared out over the hillside at his herd, his mind deep in thought. He drained the last of the stale coffee from the tin cup in his hand. The bitter tasting liquid wasn't doing much to calm his strained nerves. He let out a deep breath. There wasn't any tangible reason for the nagging feeling of danger that had been tugging at his insides ever since the first day of the drive. All things considered, their journey had been relatively trouble free and if things went on as they had been, the drive would be completed ahead of schedule.

Maybe he'd been out on the trail too long and lost the stomach for the job. It was late in the season; maybe he should call it quits and not try to deliver another herd before the weather changed.

_No . . . _There was no sense in doubting himself - He'd been a trail boss too long to ignore what his well-honed instincts were telling him.

The sound of clanking pots from the chuck wagon broke the morning calm. Favor glanced over at his men, who were just beginning to stir. Several of them groaned in protest at the early wake-up call.

"You look tired, boss," a voice said, interrupting Favor's musings. "Somethin'

botherin' you?"

The trail boss glanced up. He knew his ramrod well enough to know that Yates wasn't going to be satisfied without an answer. Favor shook his head slowly. "Nothin' to speak of. If things keep on they way they're goin' we'll be turning over the beef two, maybe three, days early."

Yates finished buttoning his shirt and frowned. "Didn't know that deliverin'

the herd early could cause a man to lose so much sleep." Rowdy gave Favor a critical look. "Besides, I don't see what the rush is - there's no bonus in it for us if we deliver the cattle ahead of time."

The man's words rankled Favor. "Now don't start up with that again, Rowdy," He replied sharply. "Stick to bein' the ramrod of this outfit and let me take care of the business details!"

Rowdy remained silent. Much as he disliked being on the receiving end of Favor's temper, he hoped that the man's diatribe would continue. _At least that way, we'd know what was goin' on . . ._ Anything was better than the distance that Favor had been putting between him and the other men since the beginning of the drive.

Yates took a steady breath before continuing. It was too early in the day for a heated discussion with anyone, much less his boss.

"I'm not tryin' to start up anything, it's the men. We've been pushing them pretty hard and they're wondering why."

"We've been over this a hundred times!" Favor admonished. "The owners have another herd waiting – if we get this one in early, we've got a guarantee of more work!"

"I know that," Rowdy placated. "But this pace is getting to all of us, even you. You've been short tempered since we started out. And Wish told me that you haven't been eatin' and I know that you haven't been sleeping much."

"Just what are you getting at?" Favor's eyes narrowed sternly.

"Nothin', just that the men are beginning to think that you can't tell the difference between them and the herd. They're tired of seeing cows and eating dust."

Favor tossed the tin cup to the ground in frustration and turned on Yates.

"I've told you before that there's no room in this outfit for anyone that needs to be coddled! If any of the men can't stomach livin' on the trail, they're welcome to look for work elsewhere!"

Rowdy sighed. The conversation was getting shakier with each passing second. "All I'm sayin' is that it might be a good idea to let the men go into town for the day. You said yourself that we're a couple of days ahead of schedule." He gestured grandly. "There's plenty of grass and water here for the herd, you couldn't pick a better spot to bed'em down."

Favor sucked in a labored breath. _Rowdy and I have been together a long time . . . We've faced a lot of tough times . . . Maybe I should just lay it all out for him . . ._

Just as quickly the trail boss decided against it. _How can I make Rowdy understand something that I can't make no sense of?_

Favor's jaw tightened. "No - -"

"But, Boss, the men - -"

"I signed those men on to push cattle!"

Yates' jaw set in anger. "I don't know what's eatin' at you but maybe goin' into town would help - sometimes a cold beer and a hot bath can take care of a lot of problems."

The Boss shook his head grimly. "Tell Wishbone and Mushy to go into town and get any supplies they need – they can catch up with us on the trail - -and tell the men to get ready to move out!"

There was no mistaking the finality of Favor's tone of voice. "Whatever you say, Mr. Favor," Rowdy muttered sullenly.

Rowdy turned and began rousting the last of the sleeping drovers.

Wishbone, the drive's cook, and Pete Nolan were waiting for him at the chuck wagon. Wishbone stopped his work on the cold breakfast he was preparing and pounced on Yates.

"Well, did you talk to him? What'd he say?"

"Yeah, I talked to him," Rowdy replied in annoyance. "He didn't say much."

Nolan frowned. "He didn't tell you nothin?"

Yates shook his head. "Just what we already know – that whatever has got a hold of

Mr. Favor has him shook up worse than we ever remember seein' him."

"Humpf!" Wishbone slammed down his meat cleaver. "I been sayin' all along that whatever was botherin' Mr. Favor was serious! But you two wouldn't listen!"

Nolan glanced at Yates, giving him a nudge on the arm. Having an angry cook would only make the situation worse for everyone.

"Sorry, Wish, we shoulda' listened to ya' before," Nolan replied apologetically. "Ain't that right, Rowdy?"

"Yeah," Rowdy agreed reluctantly.

Wishbone straightened in righteous indignation. "That's all well and good, Rowdy Yates, but you can show me how sorry you are by finding out what's the matter with Mr. Favor so things can get back to normal around here!"

"Me?" Yates protested. "Why is it up to me?"

"Because you're the ramrod, you're supposed to take care of things like this!"

"Pete is the scout, why not have him do it!" The beleaguered man lost the last of his patience. "Maybe nothing's wrong at all – maybe he's just sick of your cooking!"

The words rendered Wishbone speechless. The older man's jaw set in determination, his temper rising to volcanic proportions.

"Now, Wish, Rowdy didn't mean that . . ."Nolan said cautiously.

Having just endured Favor's onslaught of words, Rowdy was in no mood to continue a war of words with Wishbone. He waved his hands in surrender.

"Look, Wish, I'm sorry," Yates murmured as he struggled to get his emotions in check. "You're right, we need to do something before whatever's wrong with Mr. Favor rubs off on the men. You and Mushy go into town, get whatever supplies you need and leave the boss to me. I'll try again, maybe he'll feel like talkin' later on."

"I'll do it, Rowdy." Pete volunteered. "You been after him once or twice already. Maybe he'll feel like talkin' to somebody else."

Yates shook his head. "Thanks, Pete but, like it or not, Wish is right. Chances are Mr. Favor's not gonna be too happy talkin' about whatever's botherin' him. If someone's gonna get fired for askin' him about it, it should be me."

On the other side of the camp, Favor watched the three men converse, a grim expression on his face.

Deep inside he knew that Rowdy was wrong –the cure for whatever was nagging at him wouldn't be found either in the saloon or a bathtub.

His troubled eyes briefly scanned the horizon. _Troub_le's _waiting for us out there . . ._ he thought _ . . .I know it . . . _

And no matter how he thought, there didn't seem to be anyway to avoid it - -

Later that morning, a lone figure trudged down the wooden sidewalk of Last Chance's Main Street. Hunched forward against the crisp morning air, the man stopped in front of the saloon.

_Last Chance . . ._ Not only did the name describe the dying town but also his life. _Whatever chance I had for making a life in this god-forsaken place is gone . . . _

Despite of the earliness of the hour, bawdy music blared from the saloon. The town was slowly dying, year by year. Only the saloon remained as the town's sole thriving business amid the Main Street's deserted buildings.

The man turned away, deterred for a minute by crowd inside. Then just as suddenly, his hesitation passed. He took a deep breath and shoved open the roughly hewn saloon doors.

He stood just inside, running a shaky hand through his sandy hair. His eyes flickered around the bar.

_Maybe today will be the day . . ._the man thought nervously_. Maybe today . . ._

One of the girls leaning against the bar glanced up at the saloon's newest arrival. She frowned in disgust as she spoke. "Hey Sam," she called, motioning to the door, "look who's come back!"

The man reacted in an instant to her words, upending tables and breaking chairs. Glasses shattered as they hit the floor.

The bartender scowled angrily at the sight of his fleeing customers and the cowering saloon girls. He tossed aside the rag that he'd been using to wipe the bar and took large strides towards the man.

"Look," he raged, shaking a fist at the man, "I told you yesterday to get out and stay out!"

"No," the man shouted wildly. "I got as much right as anybody to come in here! And I'm goin' to keep comin' back until you stop lettin' them stinkin' drovers in here!"

"No you ain't!" The bartender shook his head adamantly. "You ain't comin' in here and bustin' up my place again!" Frustrated, he gestured angrily at the man. "Now you look here – I feel sorry for you, you losin' your wife and all, but you can't keep comin' in here – you're scarin' my girls and the customers don't like havin' you around when they're drinkin'." He took the man by the shoulders. "Your wife ain't comin' back!"

The bartender saw the man wince at his words. His anger softened. "Go back to your store, Tom," the bartender advised, "better yet, why don't you close up the store for a while and go away - forget about your wife! Cause if you come in here again, I'm gonna tell the sheriff to lock you up!" He nodded towards the double doors. "Now you gonna git or do I call the law?"

A tense silence filled the room. The man shivered, glancing around uneasily at all of the eyes that were focused in on him.

"I mean it, Tom!" The bartender ranted. "The next time you come in here, I'm pressing charges - -"

"All right," the man replied in a raspy voice. "I'll go." Emotionally drained, the man stumbled out of the saloon. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He'd read the note before, more times than he could remember. Even so, the pain the words caused was just as sharp as it was the first time he'd read it.

Misty eyed, he struggled to focus on the paper . . .

_Tom,_

_By the time you find this, I'll be on the noon stage. I told ya' before we married that a saloon girl wouldn't make a good storekeeper's wife. It's time for me to move on and make a new start with a man who won't keep me cooped up like a caged animal._

_Don't feel bad about not bein' able to make a respectable woman out of me. I'm doin' this for both of us - there ain't no sense in either one of us livin' a life that's a lie - - _

_Sadie_

His eyes glanced up, his attention drawn to the chuck wagon that was rumbling down the Main Street. _More drovers. ._ He thought meekly. _I hate'em - they're all no good drifters, just like the fancy talkin' trail boss that busted up my home. . ._

Tom Miller watched the chuck wagon come to a stop in front of his store. The bartender's words echoed through his mind again.

_Maybe leavin' town would be the best thing . . . _

Anything was better than facing the memories of his wife that the store, and their rooms above, held. He'd haunted the saloon for weeks, hoping against hope that he'd find the one thing that he wanted – a chance to settle with the man who'd stolen his wife - -

He stared at the two men that jumped down from the wagon. An avalanche of heavy emotions churned inside of him. _I reckon it don't matter none who I settle up with . . . as long as I get a chance to settle . . ._

The storekeeper straightened suddenly. His emotions again in check, Tom Miller retreated to the store to face his waiting customers.

Later that morning, at the Last Chance General Store, Wishbone was keeping a close watch on his assistant, as the younger man loaded the supplies.

The harried cook's louse tossed the burlap sack into the growing pile in back of the wagon. The sack landed with a loud thud.

Wishbone jerked up with a start. "Hey! You watch out – those supplies have to last, you know!"

Mushy took off his cap, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "Sorry, Mr. Wishbone."

"Don't let it happen again!" The older man cast a watchful eye over the sacks in the wagon. "Where's my flour?"

"Still inside the store, Mr. Wishbone." Mushy answered hastily.

"If I want something done, I always have to do it myself!" He sputtered. I'll get it!"

As he turned to go back into the store, Tom Miller, came out, the sack of flour slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, you forget this," Miller said to Mushy.

"What else is new – he'd loose his head if it wasn't attached!" Wishbone answered back. 'How much do I owe you?"

Miller handed Wishbone a slip of paper. The long-time cook's eyes flickered up and down the store receipt, taking careful note of each item.

Miller sighed. It looked like it was going to take a while to settle the bill. The storekeeper leaned against the hitching post near Mushy.

"You like bein' a drover?"

"Oh, I ain't a drover – I mostly help out Mr. Wishbone. Someday, I might be though!"Mushy nodded agreeably, his face becoming more animated. "The work is hard but I don't mind. Mr. Favor, he looks out for everyone an' Mr. Wishbone, he's the best cook in the territory."

Miller nodded thoughtfully. "This Mr. Favor – he the trail boss?"

Mushy nodded. "He and Mr. Rowdy look after things." Mushy jumped suddenly to his feet. "You wanna sign on? We can always use another hand!"

"I – I don't know," storekeeper replied softly, "I don't know much about drivin' cattle."

"That don't matter none," Mushy replied with enthusiasm. "Mr. Favor and Mr. Rowdy can teach you everything you need to know!"

Miller nodded thoughtfully, not wanting to appear anxious. This was the chance he'd been hoping for. "You mean it, 'bout me signing on?"

In answer, Mushy grabbed the man by the arm and started pulling on him. "Mr. Wishbone, we got us another hand, right here."

"Oh?" The cook looked up from his calculations in surprise. "What's Rowdy gonna say about you doin' the hiring all of a sudden?" He thrust a wad of bills into Miller's hand. "Here, this should take care of it."

Mushy flailed enthusiastically. "He won't mind, long as we bring'em a good hand."

"You and I both know Rowdy ain't gonna take it that way!"

Mushy's enthusiasm was momentarily dampened by the older man's harsh words.

"I reckon you're right, Mr. Wishbone." He turned back to the waiting store clerk. "Why don't you ride along with us that way you can talk to Mr. Rowdy yourself."

"I don't want to make any trouble . . ." Miller murmured.

"You ain't – Mr. Rowdy'll give you a chance to prove yourself, just you wait and see!"

Wishbone turned his attention to the storekeeper and gave the man a stern look. "Truth is, mister, bein' a drover is hard work. Why would you want to give up your store and sign on for a life like that?"

"I, uh, lost my wife recently," Miller stammered. "Some . . . friends . . . of mine said that a change of scene might do me some good."

"Humpf!" Wishbone sputtered. "Sleepin' on the ground, eatin' dust all day – you just might be sorry you listened to those friends of yours!" He glared at the two men.

Miller chewed his lip anxiously. He couldn't lose his one chance to exorcise the demons that were tormenting him. _I have to get in with those drovers . . . I have to . . ._

Finally, after a long wait, the older man spoke again. "Well are the two of you gonna sit there jawin' all day? Let's go, I've got hungry drovers to feed!"

The morning was frustrating for Rowdy Yates. The intense heat and dust clouds made it a challenge to move the herd. Worse yet, it was more difficult than ever to talk to Favor.

A sudden gnawing in his stomach reminded Yates that they'd need to make camp soon. His eyes searched the horizon, hoping for a glimpse of the returning chuck wagon.

The words he had with Wishbone still irritated Rowdy, almost as much as Favor's current mood. Favor's decision not to let the men go into town hadn't set well with the hard working drovers. _We've got a lot of miles to cover in the next couple of _

_days_ . . .Rowdy thought to himself. He could see it getting harder and harder each day for him to keep peace between Favor and the other men.

Rowdy's jaw set in determination. _Puttin' off talkin' to Mr. Favor ain't gonna help _

_either . . ._

Despite Rowdy's best intentions, the trail boss was always slightly ahead of him, pushing the men and the herd at a breakneck pace, making it difficult for the ramrod to keep up much less carry on a conversation.

Pete Nolan cantered alongside of Yates and shook his head. "Looks like the Boss don't want to make it easy for anyone to talk to him today."

Rowdy gave the man an annoyed look. "Don't worry, he won't be able to keep

me away for much longer."

Then he looked out, his face narrowing in concern at the large cloud of dust that was attracting his attention.

"Riders coming in," he commented.

"Must be Wish with the supplies," Nolan replied. "'Bout time too. That cold breakfast we had didn't stick none to my ribs."

"Yeah . . ." Rowdy paused, his eyes sifting through the dust cloud. "Looks like Wish brought somebody with him."

The approaching riders had also caught Gil Favor's eye. The harried trail boss trotted along side the two men.

"Pete," Favor barked. "You'd better get on back. Rowdy and me'll see who it is."

Without waiting for a response, Favor took off at a fast gallop with Yates following close behind.

The two groups met halfway up the rise.

Wishbone brought the wagon to a slow stop. "Whoa . . ."

"Welcome back, Wish." Rowdy greeted.

"Wish," Favor ordered in a clipped tone, "the men'll be wanting food soon."

"I figured they would!" Wishbone replied in a huff. "Best I can do right now is coffee and sandwiches."

"That'll do," Favor agreed. "Soon as you can."

Yates nodded to the new man. "You gonna introduce us to your friend here?"

"I will," Mushy answered, jumping down from the back of the wagon. "Mr. Favor, Mr. Rowdy, this here's . . ." the cook's louse stopped. "Hey, you didn't tell me your name!"

The man swallowed nervously. He wiped a dusty hand on his pants before extending it to Favor. "The name's Miller, Tom Miller."

"Gil Favor, trail boss," Favor said, offering the man his hand. "This here's my ramrod, Rowdy Yates."

"Mushy said I need to talk to you about signin' on with the drive."

"Oh?" Rowdy said, a flash of anger crossing his face. "I didn't know we were lookin' for any new hands, Wish."

"Don't get on your high horse with me, Rowdy Yates!" Wishbone shot back in indignation. "This is Mushy's doing, not mine. Last thing I need around here is another mouth to feed!"

"I'm sorry if I done somethin' wrong, Mr. Rowdy," Mushy stammered. "Mr. Tom, he just lost his wife and said he was lookin' to get away from town. He was askin' me questions 'bout bein' a drover so I said he oughta ride out with Mr. Wishbone and me and talk to you."

"No harm done, Mushy," Favor said, turning his attention back to the newcomer. "Miller, where are you from?"

"Last Chance. I ran the general store there for about a year." The man cleared his throat. "Like Mushy said, I lost my wife a short time ago and some friends suggested that I go away for a while."

"So you decided to join a cattle drive . . ."Rowdy murmured under his breath. "You know anythin' about workin' a drive?"

"Well," Miller admitted sheepishly, "no but I'm willing to learn . . ."

As they talked, Favor studied the new man intently. He was physically different from most of the men that came around looking for work. He cast a doubtful eye on the man's pale features and slight body frame. _He don't look he'd be able to do what we'd ask of him . . . _Favor thought critically.

Something else about the man made him uncomfortable but he couldn't say what. The trail boss straightened in his saddle, uneasily.

Then he realized what was wrong.

_This is it . . ._ the trail boss thought, feeling as though he'd been kicked in the gut. _That trouble I've been expecting' . . . it's come . . ._

Rowdy shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, stealing a glance at Favor. The look on the boss's face troubled him. Any other time, another hand would be welcome. Except for this time. The idea of adding a new hand didn't set well with Yates, at least not until he'd settled things with Favor.

"Mr. Favor's in charge," Rowdy replied finally. "It's up to him."

Favor glared at Rowdy. The feelings that had plagued him since the beginning of the drive were screaming at him in warning.

_I could turn him away . . . _Favor's mind continued. _Just by the looks of him, he _

_probably won't last two days in a saddle_ . . .

On the other hand, the trail boss had to admit that the man had been interested enough in the work to pull up stakes in town and take a chance on a job with the herd.

_I've given chances to other men that I thought might be trouble . . . _Favor thought, trying to be rational. _By rights, it's only fair that I give the same chance to this man . . . _

Reluctantly, Favor nodded in agreement and extended his hand in return. "You can stay on and see how things work out, at least until we get to the next town." He jerked the reins of his mount. "I'll meet you back at the herd," he barked at Rowdy.

"He ain't long on words, is he." Tom Miller commented, wiping his right hand along the side of his pants leg, as if shaking the man's hand had contaminated him in some way.

His thoughts wandered again to the past. He remembered the day that he'd returned to the store early and found his wife in the arms of a man like Gil Favor. He'd realized from that moment on that there was nothing he could to stop what was happening between them. It was only two days later that she was gone . . .

He was jolted back to the present by Rowdy's voice.

"That's just Mr. Favor's way," the ramrod explained. "First thing you learn on a cattle drive is that the trail boss always has a lot on his mind."

Mushy gave Miller a vigorous thump on the back. "See, I told ya' that you'd get a chance at bein' a drover!"

"You won't be sorry for letting me stay on, Mr. Yates," Miller said hastily.

Still remembering the troubled look on Favor's face, Rowdy wasn't so sure. "Yeah, let's hope not."

It wasn't until after the sun had gone down and the men were settled around the fire that Gil Favor let his guard down enough for Rowdy to get close to him.

With Wish and Mushy dishing up plates of stew, the men were entertaining each other with stories about cattle stampedes. Quietly, Rowdy set aside his half-eaten meal and wandered over to Favor who was leaning against a tree, staring at the darkening sky.

"Can I talk to you a minute, boss?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Favor shifted forward and looked up at Yates, his annoyance plain. "Can't it wait, Rowdy?"

Yates shook his head. "No, it can't. "

"All right . . ." Favor's face twisted into an angry mask. "What's on your mind."

"I was gonna ask you that." Rowdy said. "You mind tellin' me what it is that's chewin' at your insides? Way I figure it, out here, in the middle of nowhere with over 1200 head of cattle, the rest of us got a right to know if somethin' is wrong."

"Oh, you do, do you!" Favor erupted. "I told you before, stick to your own business and keep out of things that don't concern you. What I said before about not coddling anyone includes you - -"

Back at the camp, Tom Miller was pouring coffee for the men while his attention focused on the raised voices coming from nearby.

Miller shifted the heavy iron coffeepot to his other hand. Every muscle in his body ached from the bumpy wagon ride and the labor that went into preparing the meals. He hated being a part of the drive with every fiber of his being. The work was hard: harder than any other job he'd ever had. And he'd been right about the men: far as he was concerned, they weren't any different from the animals they tended to.

"Hey," a voice roared, interrupting his thoughts, "you gonna stand there or is that coffee for drinkin!"

Pete Nolan glanced up as he ate, his eyes coming to rest on the newcomer. _He ain't like the other men . . ._ Nolan thought to himself. Usually he didn't give much thought to the hiring; he left that to Rowdy and Favor. This time was different, though. It had been plain to Nolan right from the start that the man wasn't cut out to work on a drive. _Maybe I'll mention somethin' to Rowdy about it . . ._

Miller jumped with a start and moved forward. He tipped the pot, the coffee sloshing down the sides of the cup. His attention still drawn towards what was going on between Favor and Yates, he didn't notice the overflowing coffee.

"Ahh!" The drover released the cup and jumped to his feet. "What are you, crazy or somethin'!"

"It was an accident . . ." Miller stammered.

"Get away from me!" The man flexed his hand and grimaced in pain. The other men rose cautiously to their feet. Pete broke in, pushing the two men apart.

"Sit down - the man said it was an accident," Nolan said, giving the man a shove.

"Mr. Tom didn't mean nothin' by it, Mr. Nolan," Mushy joined in. He took the pot from the man's hand. "You take care of the food. I'll refill the cups."

The man gave Mushy a steely look.

"Don't let it bother you," Pete said to the newcomer as he brushed past Nolan towards the safety of the chuck wagon. "Some of the men ain't got much patience at the end of the day."

Meanwhile, Yates was continuing to push matters with Favor. "You can fire me if you want to, boss, but that won't take care of whatever's eatin' at you. I'll just get Pete or Wish or one of the others to keep after you about it." Rowdy paused, hoping to see that his words were having some effect on the troubled man. "We're not tryin' to but in, but you've got us all worried - -"

Favor chewed over the man's words in silence. Without warning, the rush of adrenaline provided by his anger left and the fatigue and the demands of being trail boss overwhelmed him.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, okay . . ." Favor muttered, rubbing his tension filled neck. "I got this feeling, had it since we started out, that trouble was waiting for us out here."

"What kind of trouble?"

"That's the hell of it, Rowdy," Favor answered quietly, "I don't know." He turned away, his eyes shifting towards the sky. "I been over and over it, tryin' to figure it out. But I can't - - It's just a feeling, that's got a hold of me and won't let go."

Rowdy looked confused. "But we're just a week away from the rail head – Nothin's happened so far. Fact is we've been pretty lucky this trip finding water and bedding ground for the herd."

"I know." Favor agreed. "And that's made it worse." He paused, searching for the right words. "The not knowing if whatever's comin' is gonna happen to the men, the herd - - that's what's tearin' me up inside." The trail boss paused before continuing, his eyes nervously meeting Yates'. "I know there's no sense to it. And I wouldn't blame you for not wantin' to put any stock in it."

Rowdy tried to make sense of it all. Pushing cattle was a risky and uncertain business. _It takes some men a lifetime to learn what the boss knows. . ._ Rowdy thought to himself. _And Mr. Favor . . . he's not a man that gets rattled easily . . ._

"Sense or no sense," Rowdy said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "a man's gotta trust his instincts. If you think there's something we need to watch out for, that's good enough for me."

Favor let out a breath, relief evident in his face.

"I'll double the night guard." Rowdy continued. "Tomorrow, Pete and I'll keep after the men about makin' sure there's no slack."

"That sounds good, "Favor agreed, his gaze turning away again. "If we keep things buttoned up tight I'm thinkin' that we'll make it to the rail head without any problems." Favor frowned. "This new man, Miller, what do you think about him?"

Yates shrugged. "He tries hard, but I don't think he's gonna be much help, except maybe to Wish." Rowdy's curiosity grew. "You ain't thinkin' that this man might be the trouble you've been expecting?"

"I don't know what to think." Favor murmured. "Just somethin' about him don't seem right. A man just showin' up out here in the middle of nowhere, askin' to sign on. It's plain that he don't know much about pushin' cattle."

"You're worryin' too much, Boss. Way I figure it we'll be lucky if he makes it long enough to earn a week's wages. By the time we get to the next town, I expect he'll be lookin' to pick up his pay."

Favor nodded, forcing aside his misgivings. "One more thing - I'd appreciate it if you kept this between us."

For the first time in a number of weeks, the weary trail boss felt like he'd be able to get a decent night's sleep. Talking things out helped more than he thought it would.

"Thanks for being pig-headed enough to make sure we had this talk, Rowdy,"Favor continued gratefully.

"Anytime, Boss, anytime."

Back at the camp, Tom Miller noticed that the loud voices had stopped.

_Don't matter none who I settle with . . ._ he thought. _As long I have a chance to teach men like Favor that there's a price to pay for bustin' up a man's life . . ._

After helping Mushy clean up the meal and while the men were still absorbed in their conversation, Tom Miller quietly slipped into the darkness . . .

The next morning, a small group of people stood outside of Last Chance's general store, shaking their head in surprise.

The bartender shook the store door. The dilapidated door groaned in protest of his efforts. The man stepped back shaking his head.

"Hard to believe he'd just up and leave like that," the bartender commented.

"Not sure that's good, 'specially after hearin' how Tom's been actin' in the saloon." Sheriff Bill Morgan stepped up and tried to peer into one of the mud-spattered windows. "You said he left with those two hands workin' that herd just to the east of here?"

"Reckon so," the bartender replied. "Leastways I recollect seein' the chuck wagon go by just as Tom left my place."

"I don't like it," the sheriff continued in frustration. "Knowin' how he feels about them trail herders, I ain't sure I like this one bit."

"It's a free territory, Sheriff, don't reckon you can tell a man what to do when he ain't breakin' no laws."

"Still, it might be worth ridin' out and takin' a look around, nothin' official."

"Don't waste your time worryin' about Tom, Sheriff." The bartender's eyes narrowed. "I'm wonderin' more about what Tom might be doin'. That man don't know nothin' 'bout cattle. And somethin' about him . . . Tom's been a changed man since his wife left and I ain't sayin' that he's changed in a good way either . . ."

At the same time, the drovers were busy breaking camp. Though early in the day, the heat was settling down around the scurrying men with an iron grip, making even the effort of breathing difficult.

Rowdy Yates hastily swallowed the last mouthful of his breakfast and shot to his feet.

"Here, Wish," Yates said, handing the older man his plate, "if the Boss is lookin' for me, I'll be with the herd."

The cook grabbed Yates by the arm. "I heard you talkin' to Mr. Favor last night. We all did. Hard to miss the two of you shouting at each other."

"We weren't shoutin', we were talkin'," Yates corrected, pulling away. "Now I got a lot of work to do so - -"

"I ain't lettin' you go 'til you tell me what happened."

"Nothin' happened. Mr. Favor's just got a lot on his mind is all, worryin' about getting the beef in on time."

"Just hold on a minute, Rowdy," The older man said, tightening his grip. "Mr. Favor's been more ornery than a wounded grizzly bear and he ain't that way 'cause he's worried about them cows!"

"Look, Wish. I gave Mr. Favor my word that I'd keep whatever was said between us." Rowdy stopped fighting against the other man's grip. "If you really want to help, just keep the men's stomach's full and let me worry about the rest."

Then Yates freed himself and continued on his way to the herd, which was bedded down near a stream just on the other side of the clearing. He walked through the brush, his mind miles away, as he dwelled on what Favor had told him. _Wish is gonna be a problem . . ._ Rowdy mused. He knew the cook wasn't going to be satisfied without answers to his questions.

His mind's wanderings continued._ I'll need help, keeping things peaceful for the next few days . . .Whether Mr. Favor likes it or not, I'll have to tell Pete . . . _

Suddenly, the world around Rowdy began spinning and Yates heard a loud snapping sound. Pain tore through his leg, spreading like a fire throughout his body. He fell to the ground in agony.

With blackness swirling around him, Rowdy clawed at his side for his gun and pulled it from the holster. With a shaky hand, he fired one shot into the air. Then the gun fell to the ground as the darkness blotted out the pain and everything else around him . . .

Some time later, it was the voices filtering through the layers of blackness that roused Yates to consciousness . . .

"An animal trap!" Pete Nolan raged. "Who the hell would set a trap like that out here in the middle of nowhere!"

"I don't know, Pete," Favor replied in a grave voice. "How is he, Wish?"

"He'll live. Lucky for him he didn't struggle more otherwise it'd be a lot worse . . ."

"Miller, did you see or hear anything before you found Rowdy?"

"No, Mr. Favor. Like I said, I came runnin' when I heard the shot and found him like this, out cold."

Then the voices ebbed. Suddenly, Rowdy felt warmth on his face. Through the half-opened slits of his eyes, he squinted against the sunlight at the sea of concerned faces looking down at him.

Yates shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground. The slight movement caused new shoots of pain to jab at his leg like a hot poker. A low moan escaped from his lips.

"Let that be a lesson to you!" Wish lectured as he worked on the man's injured leg.

"Just lay there and don't move!"

Favor swore softly under his breath. All of the ominous feelings that had been haunting him since the beginning of the drive came back and slammed into him with a hammer blow.

The worried trail boss began raging at his men.

"Wish, I can't have Rowdy laid up – I need my ramrod!"

"He ain't gonna be much of a ramrod with one leg, now is he!" Wishbone shot back. "I'll do what I can but he's gonna have to be kept still for a couple of days."

"A couple of days?" Favor was seething. "We can't hold over here a couple of days!"

"Well you ain't got much choice," Wishbone ranted. "A wound like that with the skin all torn up like it is, we shouldn't be movin' him till I'm sure that infection ain't gonna set in."

As they talked, Pete Nolan broke away from the group and quietly examined the blood-smeared trap. Jaw set, his wary eyes glanced up at the men, scanning their faces as they listened to Favor's tirade.

Miller's eyes nervously followed Nolan's movements. Without attracting attention, he began to edge through the crowd to keep a closer eye on the scout's movements.

The tension in the air was growing thicker as the tone of the discussion escalated. Pete rejoined the group, motioning to several of the other men.

"Quince, take the men and get back to the herd. Wish and I'll handle things here."

Quince nodded in agreement and motioned to the others. The men slowly began to trail away.

Miller stepped back, trying to stay out of sight. As Quince passed by, he grabbed Miller by the arm and began pulling him away. "You heard what Pete said, let's go."

"I figured I'd stay behind in case Mr. Favor had anymore questions."

Quince tightened his grip. "We're here to take orders, not stand around talkin'. If Mr. Favor needs you, he knows where to find you – so let's go."

Miller's hands knotted into tight fists. He shook himself free. "Get your hands off

me . . ." He stalked away.

Quince shook his head, following behind. "Don't know what Rowdy and Mr. Favor were thinkin,' hirin' him," he muttered to Pete as he went by.

Nolan didn't answer. He had too much on his mind as it was without adding any other problems that the men had with the new hand. With the last of the men gone, Nolan anxiously stepped in between Favor and Wishbone.

"Mr. Favor?"

"What is it, Pete!"

"I think Wish is right, 'bout Rowdy needin' a couple of days rest before we move him." Nolan wiped the sweat from his face with his bandanna. "Besides, we got other problems."

"Like what?"

"That trap," Pete continued gravely, "it came from our supply wagon . . ."

At the same time, back in town, an Overland stagecoach was rolling to a bumpy stop in front of the Last Chance Express Office.

The driver jumped down quickly and opened the door for the stage's lone passenger. A gloved hand reached out to the waiting man.

"Anyone here to meet ya'?" The driver asked.

"No," the young woman replied as she stepped down from the coach. "I – I'm just looking around the town."

The driver climbed up on top of the stage and handed down the woman's battered traveling bag.

"Well, good luck," he said, his voice filled with doubt. "Last Chance ain't much of a place, but I reckon if you look hard enough you can find somethin' here to suit ya'."

Traveling bag in hand, the woman stood still as a statue, her wary eyes studying the town that had been her home until she'd left four months earlier.

_Nothing's changed . . ._ she thought with disgust, as she watched the stagecoach roar down the rutted main street, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. _Except me . . ._

The woman heaved a heavy sigh and began walking. She came to a stop in front of the General Store.

The sign in the window screamed at her . . ._OUT OF BUSINESS . . ._

She leaned forward and pressed her face against the glass, peering intently into the store. Inside the darkened interior, she could make out the fully stocked shelves and ladies dress forms that seemed to mock her with their ghost-like presence.

She'd hated the store. Even though Tom had been kind, he couldn't control the gossip that she'd overheard while the ladies browsed for their fabrics and sewing notions in the store.

_They never gave me chance to put the past behind me. . ._

And then there was Tom. Always content to work behind the store's expansive counter, from sunrise to sunset, too busy to notice her growing unhappiness with the quiet life they were living.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she remembered the excitement that she'd felt the day the drovers had come to town. After months on the trail, the drovers were looking for a good time and often came into the store to spend their hard-earned money.

That's where she'd met _him. _ He'd come in to the store one day when Tom was out picking up the mail. She'd slipped away often after that so the two could meet away from prying eyes. He'd promised her a new life after the drive. A life of excitement, traveling from town to town: a life free of the responsibilities that she'd come to hate.

A week later, the drovers pulled out. And so did she . . .

The woman shook herself free from her memories. _Now what . . . _she thought in misery. She'd traveled for days and used what little money she had left to return to Last Chance.

_Leaving was a mistake . . ._ she hated to admit it, but she had no choice but to face the truth. _I have to find Tom . . .I can make him take me back . . . he has to - -_

The woman turned, shoulders bent, and slowly began walking away . . .

Later that evening, the mood among the drovers that night was somber. Only the tinny strains from a harmonica broke the stillness of the night.

Left in charge of the meal with Mushy, Tom Miller was savoring the effect Rowdy's accident had on Favor. A sense of satisfaction welled up inside of him as he watched the trail boss struggle to cope with the herd's inability to move on as well as to Yates' unexplained accident.

He eyed Favor and Nolan as they talked quietly on the other side of the camp. He'd eliminated one of Favor's right hands – it was time to get rid of another. _Favor will be a broken man by the time I'm finished with him . . ._

At the same time, near the hastily erected shelter that had been put up so Wishbone would have room to work on Rowdy, the two men were discussing their situation, unaware of the other plans being made.

Favor felt his stomach knot. "You're sure about the trap, Pete?"

Nolan nodded, poking the ground with a stick. "Fraid so, Boss. "

"You think someone got past the night guard and into the supply wagon?"

Pete shook his head. "Ain't likely. Quince and Scarlett were on watch. I already talked to'em they said everything was quiet last night." He tossed the stick aside. "You know that only leaves us one other possibility . . ."

Favor leaned forward. "You ain't seriously thinkin' that one of our men did this to get back at me or Rowdy?" Favor's strained voice trailed off. "Maybe it is true - Rowdy tried to tell me I was pushing the men too hard but I didn't listen to him."

"You've pushed these men hard before, Mr. Favor. I can't believe that one of them'd get so hot tempered about followin' orders that they'd take it out on you or Rowdy. I can't speak for that new man, though. He's a hard one to figure out."

"How so?" Favor asked, his curiosity aroused.

"Somethin' about him just don't add up. I ain't never seen a man less cut out for workin' a drive. And he just don't fit in with the other men."

The harmonica music stopped. As the last notes faded, the sound of snapping twigs broke the evening calm, interrupting the conversation.

"You hear that?" Favor asked, head cocked in anticipation.

"Might just be an animal." Nolan rose to his feet. "I'll check it out. "

Favor nodded. As Nolan disappeared into the darkness, the spent trail boss rose to his feet to make his rounds.

"How's Rowdy doin', Wish?"

"Still sleepin' hard." The cook answered wearily. "Sleeps the best thing for him, right now."

"Suppose you're right," Favor agreed. "I'll need to talk to him tomorrow 'bout what happened."

At the same time, Pete Nolan was listening intently as he tracked. The sounds continued, leading him farther and farther away from the camp.

As he walked deeper into the brush, Pete felt a chill creep up his spine. His eyes flickered around uneasily. _Feel like I'm bein' watched . . ._

His senses on the alert, Nolan's hand edged closer to the holster at his side.

Too late, Pete saw the blurry form coming out of the darkness towards him. The shadow lunged forward. Before Nolan could get to his gun, he felt a sharp pain in his side. Ignoring the throbbing in his side, Pete reacted instinctively and fought back against the onslaught.

The two thrashed violently in the night.

Then the dim moonlight illuminated the shadow's face for an instant and Nolan learned the identity of his attacker.

"You?" Nolan gasped. "You must be loco - -" Dizzy, he staggered for a moment. "You set that trap for Rowdy didn't you - it had to be you - -"Unable to fight the pain any longer, Nolan staggered backward and slumped against a tree.

Seeing that his victim was too weak to fight, the shadow turned and fled into the cover of darkness.

"Gotta tell Mr. Favor . . ." Nolan murmured, glancing down at the growing red stain on his shirt.

Summoning the last of his strength, Nolan staggered towards camp. Just as he was within sight of the supply wagon, his legs buckled and he fell to the ground unconscious.

At the same time, in Last Chance, the sheriff glanced up from his reading. Startled, he his eyes widened in recognition of the person entering his office.

"Don't think any of us expected to see you back in Last Chance so soon, Sadie," the man said tactfully, setting aside the wanted poster he'd been reading. "You plannin' to be in town long?"

"I didn't come back here to make polite talk with you or anyone else, Sheriff," she said in a cold voice. "Where's my husband? I checked at the store and it's closed up."

"That's what all of us been wonderin. "The burly man rose from his seat. "Far as anyone around here knows, Tom just up and left one mornin'. Sam, over at the saloon, thinks he might've signed on with one of them cattle drives that passed near here a couple of days ago."

"A cattle drive?" The woman asked in disbelief. "Tom can barely tell one part of a cow from another – what'd he do somethin' like that for?"

He shrugged. "Afraid I can't help you any more than that." The sheriff gave her a critical look. "Tom took your leavin' awful hard, Sadie. Fact is he ain't been the same since you left. Some folks are kinda worried that he might go and do somethin' he'll be sorry for."

The man's well tempered rebuke echoed through her mind. _Hard . . ._ she thought bitterly. Nothing was harder than that awful morning that she'd woken up in the town of Sulphur Springs and found that all of the trail boss's promises had been lies. Broke and stranded, she'd taken a job in the town's only saloon to survive. After a couple of weeks, she got tired of being pawed by the town drunks. Desperate, she'd used the last of what she had saved to buy a stage ticket back to Last Chance.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to concentrate on what the Sheriff was saying.

". . . and he's been thrown out of the saloon a couple of times for makin' threats and breakin' the place up. Thought you needed to know, in case you was thinkin' it was gonna be easy to come back."

"Whether or not I come back is between Tom and me," she replied in a quiet voice, glaring at the lawman. "Take me to him, is all I'm askin'. He won't have no more cause to make trouble after we get done havin' our talk.'"

"That simple is it," the Sheriff answered doubtfully. "You just have a talk with him and it's like your walkin' out never happened?"

Her heart grew heavier hearing the pain her leaving had caused. The woman stiffened. _I deserve that . . ._she thought. She'd had a lot of time to think during the time she'd been away. _I ran away to be free and ended up being more of a prisoner then I was _

_here . . ._

"I'm only askin' one thing of you - are you gonna take me out to that herd? Or do you want to wait until Tom stops makin' threats and maybe starts hurtin' folks?"

The Sheriff nodded. "We'll leave in the morning, before first light . . ."

It was the smell of coffee that forced Gill Favor to wakefulness. He jerked forward his body still exhausted by the short periods of fitful sleep that he'd endured.

Favor groaned, as he tried to clear his mind of the chaos of the night before, when a wounded and bleeding Pete Nolan had wandered back to camp.

"Drink this," Wishbone snapped, waving the cup at Favor. "you're gonna need it!"

"Thanks," the trail boss murmured gratefully. He gulped down a mouthful of the steaming liquid. "I know there's somethin' on your mind, Wish, so why don't you just come out and say it."

"I will when someone explains to me what's goin' on around here!" The older man ranted. "Pete's been askin' for you for the past hour." Wishbone continued. "First he gets Rowdy all riled up with whatever's on his mind and now he's waitin' to do the same to you!" Wishbone gestured wildly. "I'm tellin' you, Mr. Favor, I ain't takin' care of those two mules if they're not goin' to do what I tell'em to do!"

"I'll talk to them about it, Wish," Favor barked, jumping to his feet. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"Cause I ain't runnin' a sick call for pig headed drovers!" Wishbone replied indignantly. "If you keep running yourself down, you'll be laid out too and I ain't got time to take care of anyone else and keep up with my other chores!"

Favor shoved the cup into the older man's hand and hurried over to the shelter, followed close behind by Wishbone.

"Mr. Favor!" Rowdy said, struggling to sit up.

"Take it easy, Rowdy," Favor said, placing a strong hand on the injured man to keep him from moving further. "Glad to see the two of you on the mend. You'd probably mend a mite faster, though, if you'd stop fussin' and didn't give Wish so much trouble."

"I told Wish what I had to say was important!" Nolan ranted angrily, his eyes bright with fever. "But that stubborn old goat refused to wake you!"

"I'm here now." Favor gave Wishbone a stern look. "What's on your mind, Pete?"

"I saw the fella that knifed me, Mr. Favor. It was that new man, the one'd came in with Wish and Mushy."

"Miller?" Favor replied in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

Nolan nodded. "I didn't see him up close for long, but it was long enough to get a look at his face." Pete thrashed on his bedding. "I'm bettin' he's the one that set the trap for Rowdy too."

Favor glanced uneasily at Wishbone. "Where is Miller, Wish?"

"I don't rightly know," Wish said, wiping his hands on his apron. "I've been too busy to give much thought to him."

"Check with Mushy then - He's got to be around here somewhere!" Favor ordered.

Wishbone returned shortly with Mushy in tow.

"Mr. Wishbone said you wanted to see me, Mr. Favor?"

"Mushy, where's that new man – ain't he supposed to be helpin' you and Wish?"

"I dunno – I ain't seen him all morning. I been so busy helpin' Mr. Wishbone, I forgot about him." Confused, Mushy glanced around at the tense faces around him. "Mr. Tom, he ain't done nothin' wrong, has he?"

"That's what we're trying to find out," Favor answered. "Wish, you take charge here – make sure your gun's in easy reach in case Miller shows up. "

"Let me help, Mr. Favor," Rowdy pleaded. "I can't just lay around here while everyone else is lookin'. Besides, I got a big score to settle with that guy, not just for me but for what he did to Pete - -"

Favor shook his head. "Not that I'd mind havin' you along, Rowdy, but you ain't gonna be much help, not bein' able to move on your own." The trail boss began barking orders.

"Scarlett!" Favor shouted. "You and Quince check the remuda and the supply wagon. Make sure two men stay behind with the herd – the rest of you, spread out and start searching the woods!"

Absorbed in the task in front of them, the drovers were unaware that they were being watched from a rocky knoll near the camp.

Tom Miller swallowed hard, his wary eyes keeping a careful watch on the progress of the search. It was only a matter of time before his hiding place was discovered. The man took a shaky breath: he could feel his anxiety growing more acute with every passing second. Miller glanced down and saw that his hands were visibly shaking.

He reached down to the rifle at his side, rubbing his hand along it slowly. The rifle had calming influence on him. A satisfied smile tugged at the sides of his mouth as he remembered how easy it had been to get the rifle and shells out of the supply wagon during the confusion caused by Pete Nolan's injury.

Miller took a deep breath. He was in control again. He felt powerful and strong. _I could take them now, one by one, _he thought,_ and no one would be able to stop me . . ._

The man picked up the rifle, his eyes searching for a target. When Favor came into view, he stopped, his hand fingering the trigger lightly.

_No . . ._ he thought, _that would be too easy . . ._

He lowered his weapon content, for the moment, to bide his time . . .

The wagon carrying Sheriff Morgan and Sadie Miller rumbled along the dusty road at a furious pace. The dilapidated buckboard hit a rut and the woman lurched forward, afraid for a moment that she'd be thrown from her seat.

As they traveled, she rehearsed in her mind the words she'd put together the night before, hoping that they'd be enough to convince her husband to give her another chance.

"Almost there," Morgan commented, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them. "There's somethin' I been wantin' to ask you - Why'd you come back?" He glanced over and saw the look of anger that crossed the woman's face. "I ain't bein' nosy but I figured since you asked me to take you out here, I got a right to know what I'm getting' into."

After a long wait, she answered in a tired voice. "I decided that leaving was a mistake."

"We all make mistakes, some folks more than others."

"My mistakes always seem to be bigger than most folks." Feeling worn and aged beyond her 25 years, she lowered her eyes, not wanting the lawman to see the tears that were beginning to well up. "I wasn't happy with Tom but that wasn't his fault. He's a good man . . ."

Meanwhile, the drovers had come up empty handed in their search. Tired and hot, they started back to camp.

"You sure about the rifle?" Favor asked, his senses on the alert for anything usual.

"Ain't no mistake about it, Mr. Favor. One rifle and most of the shells are gone." Scarlett replied, holstering his gun. "He was in a hurry when he went through the wagon – the jasper didn't even bother to hide the fact that he'd been there."

"What about the remuda?"

"Nothin," Quince added. "Lucky for us, he didn't have enough sense to know how much trouble it'd cause if we lost all the horses."

As they talked, Favor began to realize just how bad their situation was. _I got_ _two injured men that shouldn't be moved and over 1200 head of cattle to get to the rail-head in less than a week . . . _Favor thought, his eyes glancing around uneasily. _And then there's Miller - - just waitin' out there for another chance at us . . . _

The frustrated trail boss swore under his breath. _It's my fault we're in this . . . _Favor continued berating himself. _I knew all along trouble was comin', I should've trusted my instincts . . ._

Worse still, the camp was in an uproar when they got back. Frustrated by their forced inactivity during the crisis, Favor and the others returned to find that Pete and Rowdy had rebelled against Wishbone. Squared off against each other, the two groups were exchanging loud words.

The older man was fussing at Yates. "If you don't simmer down that leg'll start bleeding again and this time I might not be able to stop it!"

"Wish," Nolan said, leaning upright against the chuck wagon for support. "I ain't gonna tell you again - I want my gun back!" He held his side, gingerly rubbing the throbbing wound.

"Not till that fever breaks," Wishbone shouted angrily. "Now you two jaspers listen to me - -"

"What's the problem, Wish?" Favor interrupted, coming between the two groups.

"After you left, these two got it into their heads that they know more about doctorin' than me!" Wishbone said indignantly. "They ain't fit to be sittin' up, much less standin'!"

"When I get that gun back," Nolan ranted, "I just might be tempted to use it on a hard-headed old man - -"

"You two don't scare me!" Wishbone replied with bravado. "All I gotta do is wait for the two of you to pass out again - - and by the looks of you, I ain't gonna have long to wait!"

"That's enough, all of you- -"Favor roared, his patience at an end.

Seeing that Favor and the others were otherwise occupied, Miller took advantage of the situation and showed himself.

The deranged man fired a shot into the air, sending the drovers scurrying for cover. Wild eyed and shaking from head to toe, the man waved the rifle wildly at the men.

"I want the guns and the gun belts," he shouted angrily. "Toss'em over here, nice and easy . . ."

Pinned down near a thicket of brush, Favor made a quick assessment of the situation. _There's over 20 of us and one of him . . ._ the trail boss thought grimly. _We could take him except . . ._

"Damn . . ." he muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Pete and Rowdy hadn't been able to move fast enough and were directly in Miller's line of fire.

"Hold your guns - - "Favor ordered.

"But, Mr. Favor - -"the man crouched down beside him sputtered.

"I said hold your guns!" Favor ordered again.

"Order them to drop the guns and come out, Favor." Miller said, his voice shaking. "Or I'll finish what I started with these two right now." He stepped forward, keeping the rifle trained on Yates and Nolan. "And after I'm through with them, you'll watch while I shoot down the others, till you're the only one left standing."

The threats sent a chill through Favor. _Too many lives at risk . . ._ he thought. _As well as the herd . . ._they couldn't risk any gunplay that might send the cattle stampeding.

The men behind Favor began grumbling angrily.

"We can take him, Mr. Favor," Quince whispered softly. "He's outnumbered, there's no way he can take all of us on at once." A rumbling went through the group as the men agreed loudly.

"No sense in rushing him," Favor muttered. "Rowdy and Pete'd be dead before any of us could get to Miller."

"What are we gonna do, Mr. Favor?" Mushy asked nervously.

"I'm gonna try and talk to him. Whatever Miller's done, he's done it for a reason and I want to know what that reason is."

"He'll kill you before you get a chance to say anything!" Wish sputtered.

"From the looks of him, I'd say the odds are against any of us getting' out of this alive, whether we try and talk to him or not." The trail boss replied. "If we're gonna die, I think we got a right to know what we're dyin' for."

Favor rose slowly to his feet, stepping forward to face the distraught man. He kept his hands up and in sight, away from the gun at his side.

"All right, Miller," He said in a low tone.

Favor's men watched with anxious eyes as their boss untied his holster and rolled it up.

"You got somethin' to settle, we'll settle it – here and now, like men, out in the open."

"What about them?" Miller said, waving the rifle at the others.

"They won't draw on you, you got my word on that." Favor replied, tossing the rolled gun belt at the man's feet. "You come a long way to join up with this drive –why?"

The rifle faltered for a moment. The courage that had been fueled by the hatred began to turn to fear. "Because . . ." the man sputtered.

Miller's thoughts were in turmoil. He'd injured Favor's most trusted men and disrupted the drive in the hopes of breaking the trail boss. And yet, there Favor was standing in front of him, strong and in control, using his failure to mock him. _This isn't the way I planned it - -_

"A wrong was done to me." Miller continued, finding his voice. "I got a right to collect when that happens, any man does!"

"None of us knew you the day you rode in here!" Favor said, his voice growing harsh. "How could one of us have wronged you? And why did you have to attack two of my men to collect on what you think is owed you?"

Miller sucked in a deep breath, summoning the last vestiges of his failing nerve. "Don't try any of your fast talking words on me, trail boss." The words continued to pour out. "That worked once, four months ago, when you rode into town and filled my wife's head with lies. It won't work again!" He leveled the rifle at Favor. "The day you rode out with her, you destroyed everything that'd ever meant anything to me –my marriage - - the store – everything - -"

"That wasn't me or my men!" An outraged Favor argued.

"It might as well have been," the broken man sobbed. "That day your chuck wagon came to town, I decided that it didn't matter none to me who I settled up with. " He raised the rifle again. "One dead trail herder's the same as another to me, _Mr._ Favor - -"

Just then, there was a rumbling sound. The drovers looked up and saw the buckboard coming towards them. The woman jumped down and began running towards them.

"Sadie?" Miller whispered, not sure if his eyes were telling him the truth.

"No, Tom, don't hurt anyone!"The woman screamed, placing herself between the armed man and the drovers. "These men had nothing to do with what happened between us! It was my fault, all of it - -"

"Drop the rifle, Tom," Sheriff Morgan added, standing on the seat of the buckboard. "Don't add a charge of murder on top of whatever else has happened!"

"Please, Tom," the woman continued pleading. "Everything can be just like it was before - -"

Shaking uncontrollably, Miller's hand tightened on the trigger. _Nothing will ever be like it was before . . . _He thought. _Favor won't let it . . . He'll make me pay for what I did . . . unless I make him pay first . . ._

He squeezed the trigger.

"No!" The woman screamed, throwing herself between him and Favor. The rifle barked once and the woman stiffened an expression of surprise on her face.

Shocked, he let the rifle drop to the ground. Miller knelt down and cradled his wife in his arms.

She looked up at him with tear filled eyes. "I'm – I'm sorry, Tom," she whispered. "I –shouldn't –have left you - -"Then her last bit of strength left her and her body slumped in his arms . . .

Early the next morning, Gil Favor watched in satisfaction as the drovers finished breaking camp and completed the last of the preparations necessary so the herd could move on.

"We're ready anytime you are, Mr. Favor," Pete Nolan interrupted, his horse cantering to a stop alongside Favor's. A dart of pain jabbed at his side, forcing Nolan to straighten uncomfortably in the saddle.

"Good," the trail boss replied, noticing the change in his scout's expression. "You okay?"

"Just a twinge every now and then," Nolan replied. "Nothin' I can't handle. Anyway, it beats havin' to force down another one of Wish's fever potions."

"You go on ahead, Pete," Favor said. "I'm gonna check on Rowdy before we pull out."

The trail boss moved on until he came along side the chuck wagon. He could tell by the look on Rowdy's face that the ramrod wasn't happy riding next to Wishbone.

"Why the long face, Rowdy?" Favor asked. "I figured you wouldn't mind ridin' up here. If Wish'd had his way, you'd be laid out in back of the supply wagon." He glanced around, noticing the cook's absence. "Where is Wish, by the way?"

"Back there, mixin' up more of his potions," Yates said, nodding towards the back of the wagon. "Ridin' up here don't bother me none, even if does mean listenin' to Wish fuss all the time."

"So what is on your mind?"

"I was just thinkin'," Rowdy said, his eyes coming to rest on the wooden cross at the top of the rise. "that it don't seem right, Miller buryin' his wife out here instead of back in town."

Favor thought for a moment. "If I had been in his place, I might have done the same thing," Favor replied. "If needing to be free is what drove her away from him then layin' her to rest out here was most likely the only way Miller could think of to give his wife what she needed."

"I reckon so," Rowdy murmured soberly.

""Sometimes, Rowdy, there's no explaining why a man makes a decision, right or wrong." Favor continued. "Way I figure, it's best just to move on and not waste time tryin' to sort out things that are probably best left alone."

Then he moved on without waiting for a response from the ramrod. As the herd pulled out, Favor let out a deep breath, grateful that whatever had been dogging him since the start of the drive had been put to rest, just like the grave they'd left behind.

The End.


End file.
